


Katniss and Prim Get Tattoos

by HPfanonezillion



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, F/M, Tattoos, tattoo artist!Peeta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 03:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12181995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPfanonezillion/pseuds/HPfanonezillion
Summary: Katniss and Prim get tattoos from a very cute tattoo artist.





	Katniss and Prim Get Tattoos

**Author's Note:**

> Tattoo artist!Peeta? Yes, please!
> 
> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Happy reading

I've never been opposed to getting a tattoo. But I've never been officially for it, either.

The thought of having something permanent on my body like that worried me. What if my interests changed? What if it stopped having meaning?

And then Prim came home one day last week with a couple of sketches. She sat me down on the couch and gave a very convincing argument.

"They would have meaning, Katniss." Prim said as she pointed to the set of plants she'd drawn. "You'd get the primroses and I'd get the katniss."

I looked down at the little sketches. They're adorable. And it would take something unthinkable for me not to want to honor my sister and our relationship in that way. I nodded and gave her a hug. "I love it."

"Then I'll set up the appointment." Prim popped up and headed for the kitchen. "My night to cook, right?"

She said she got the name of a tattoo parlor from her professor Cressida who had vines tattooed on her head and down her neck. Prim said she was working on getting them extended down one arm and even over a leg. It was a lot of work, so it had to be done by someone trustworthy.

Prim pulls up at the little shop. It's well-lit and the windows are painted with all sorts of different stereotypical tattoo designs.

"Sunset Tattoo." I read from the sign. "Sounds relaxing."

"Cressida said they play ocean wave sounds. And the guy on the phone had a really soothing voice." Prim gets out and starts toward the door. "Just remember, this is my Christmas gift."

A bell rings over the door when we walk in and a blonde man with a tattoo of a wedding cake up the back of his leg looks up from a customer. He smiles at us and I am undone by his bright blue eyes and the dimple that appears in his cheek. "Prim and Katniss?" He asks.

"That's us." Prim answers when words escape me.

He nods. "I'm about done here. Just take a seat, relax." He points to a door in the back. "Bathroom's through there if you need to throw up." He turns back around and returns to his work.

Prim smiles and pulls me down on the little bench in the corner. "You should probably pick your jaw off the floor before he comes over."

I shake my head in disbelief. "You're ridiculous."

"Cressida didn't mention he was cute, but I'm glad. It will take our minds off the pain." Prim winks. "So we're doing wrists, right?" She holds up her right arm facing up.

"Yes. So that when you finally leave me, you'll be able to look down and remember who I am." I wrap my arm around Prim's shoulders and press a kiss to her temple.

Prim laughs. "You know I'm going to be over at your house at least once a week when I move out, right?" She leans her head on my shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you, too." I kiss her again as the tattoo artist finishes his instructions to the young man in his chair.

The man leaves and the artist turns to us. "Okay, hi." He smiles kindly and holds out his hand to me. "I'm Peeta."

"Katniss." I say with a shaky voice and slip my hand into his.

Peeta nods and turns to Prim. "So you're Cressida's student?"

Prim grins. "Yep, that's me. She has nothing but good things to say about you."

Peeta laughs. "She has to say that until I'm done with that damn vine of hers." He gestures to the chair. "I need to get this cleaned and prepped. You decide who's going first."

"You got the sketches I sent?" Prim asked, leaning against the desk.

"I did. Really pretty." Peeta cleans efficiently. "You drew those?"

"She did." I say proudly. "Prim is a fantastic artist."

Peeta looks over his shoulder and looks me up and down. He gets back to work.

"You should go first." Prim whispers. "Then I can seal the deal and get you a date."

I can feel my face heating up. "Stop it."

"I will not. He's cute. And you haven't had a date since Gale dumped you for Madge almost two years ago."

I roll my eyes. "Whatever."

Peeta walks over to the counter and finishes up the transaction with Prim. I didn't realize tattoos so small would cost so much.

"All right, which one of you lovely ladies is first?"

A couple minutes later, I'm sitting in the chair. There is a stencil on my wrist of the small picture of primroses my sister drew.

Peeta makes the machine buzz a couple times. "Okay, take a few deep breaths and we'll get going." He smiles encouragingly, dips the tattoo gun in some green ink and then leans over my wrist.

The pain almost makes me jump, but I clench my fist and curl my toes up in my shoes.

"You doing okay?" Peeta asks.

I nod.

Prim pulls a chair up beside me and takes my hand. "She's not a fan of needles."

"We'll be done in a few minutes." Peeta smiles into my eyes. "Don't you worry, Katniss, you'll survive this." He winks and gets back to work. "You know, the wrist is one of the more painful places. There's not a lot of muscle here." He wipes away some of the extra ink and bits of blood.

"Great! I had to agree to this place."

He grins. "The foot's the worst because it's right on top of the bone."

"I like this one." I point to the back of his left arm. It's a portrait of a man holding a plate of cookies.

"That's my dad." He pauses and turns his arm over. There was a scribbled note,  _Love you bunches! Dad_  "This was my first."

"Your dad's important to you." I say, thinking about my dad who passed when I was eleven.

"Yeah, we were close." Peeta sits back and flexes his fingers. "He died just before I started art school. After I got this tattoo," he points to the scribbled message, "I decided it would be a good career. My art could go out into the world."

He leans over my wrist again and works quietly for a while. Prim squeezes my hand. But my eyes are glued to the blonde curls of the head leaning over my arm. My fingers ache to slip into their depths.

Peeta sits up. "All finished." He starts wiping away all the extra ink. "What do you think?"

I am floored by the beauty of it. He made an exact replica of Prim's work, but added a little more shadow around it to make the plant pop off my wrist realistically.

"That's amazing." I breathe.

"Woah!" Prim says softly. "That's great!"

"Thanks." Peeta says with a shy grin. He finishes wrapping up my wrist. "You can take this off in an hour, wash with antibacterial soap, and apply water-based lotion. Put lotion on it often. When the itching starts, do not scratch. You'll mess with the healing. In about six weeks, if you need a touch-up, come in and it's free."

Peeta cleans everything and takes a sort break. Then it's Prim's turn. She's extra chatty and tells Peeta all about her boyfriend Rory to keep her mind of the pain. Peeta meets my eyes at one point and smiles. He goes back to work, asking Prim questions about school when she takes a break to breathe.

Peeta finishes the tattoo and gives Prim the same spiel about care.

Prim thanks him and then says, "Hey, I need to go talk to my boyfriend a minute." She quickly leaves the building.

Peeta chuckles. "So, um…" He gets to work cleaning up the station. "Do you have plans later?"

"None." I say softly.

He looks up from his cleaning. "You want to go get a drink?"

I smile and nod. "Sure." I point. "The Hob?"

"I love that place." Peeta grins. "I close at ten."

"Then I'll meet you at The Hob." I walk out of the front door and quickly drag Prim to the car. "We're meeting for drinks at ten! Get me ready."

Prim giggles and points the car toward home.


End file.
